Harry and Petra: the beginning
by RoderickJaynes87
Summary: Prequel to my first fanfic "Kingsman: a re-telling." Harry and Petra are new potential recruits into the secret agency.
1. H&P Chapter 1

This is a "prequel" to my first fic, "Kingsman: A re-telling." If you're a little lost (although it's not that difficult), please hop over and read that one first. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: the introduction

Petra Durant took a moment to look around the room at her competition. _It shouldn't be to hard to outsmart this lot,_ she thought. The other four potential recruits were standing in the middle of the group, conversing. One girl (in addition to herself) looked timid and weak, but was probably intelligent. She'd do better behind a typewriter than in the field. One boy, gangly tall with glasses, looked suited for office work as well. The other two boys looked like rugby players, obvious athletes. Brawn over brains, she thought. She took her bedroll and started to smooth it out over her bunk mattress. A hand appeared in front of her face.

"Harry Hart."

Petra looked up. It was one of the rugby boys. "Excuse me?" she said.

"I'm Harry Hart," he said, still holding his hand out.

"Is that supposed to be cute?"

"Afraid not."

Petra shook his hand, only because he probably would have stood there holding it out until she did. "Petra Durant."

Harry nodded then shoved his hands in his pockets. Petra continued making her bed. She picked up a large canvas bag and hung it in her locker next to her bunk. "So, what school are you from?" Harry asked.

Petra sighed. "Oxford."

Harry wasn't going anywhere. "Oxford," he repeated. "I'm a St. Andrews man, myself."

"That's lovely," Petra said, not meaning an ounce of it.

"All of us have been discussing what we're going to be in for," he said, pointing to the group. "What are your thoughts?"

Petra pulled a sheet tightly around a corner of her mattress and dropped it heavily on its frame. Pushing a strand of hair from her face, she looked at Harry. "Look, I'm sorry if you think this is some sort of date," she said. The tall boy in the glasses snickered. "But I'd really just like to get my things sorted."

Harry put up his hands in surrender. "Apologies," he said, "I didn't mean to bother you. Good luck, Pet."

"It's Petra," she said with a clenched jaw. "And I won't be needing it, thank you."

The doors opened and a man with a clipboard walked in. Everyone, including Petra, stood to attention. "Good morning, and welcome to the hardest job interview you will ever experience. My name is Gawain; I trust you all have made your own introductions. As you may have guessed, the Kingsman agents are steeped in tradition similar to the Knights of the Round Table. That being said, we do not take our jobs lightly. You will each endure tests that will push your limits and hopefully prove which of you deserves a place in our prestigious agency." He lifted a canvas bag from under his arm. It was like the one Petra had stowed away. "Can anyone tell me what this is?" he asked.

The geeky boy in glasses (Petra later learned his name was Edward) raised his hand. Gawain nodded for him to answer. "It's a body bag, sir. The kind they put corpses in."

"You would be correct." He paused for dramatic silence. Petra wanted to laugh. Scare tactics rarely worked on those who came to expect them. "Grab your bags; I want everyone to write information on their next of kin. You're dismissed until dinner."

Each of the recruits fell out of line and went to their respective bunks. Three beds sat against each wall, and the three across from Petra were quickly occupied. She watched Harry as he took the bunk next to hers. _Of course_.

"Sorry, Pet," Harry winked at her. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

"Lucky me," Petra said sarcastically


	2. H&P Chapter 2

Chapter 2- the 1st test

Petra was sitting up in bed reading a book on Russian warfare, written in Russian of course. She looked over at Harry, who was laying with his back to her. The other three were snoring away. She heard a faint metal scraping above her head. Harry stirred. _Rats,_ Petra thought, _wonderful._ There it was again- a long, scraping noise like something being dragged in the ceiling. The air vent. The fan above Petra's bunk was not moving. She held her breath to listen. She could swear she heard distant voices, foreign. She tried to make out the language, but it was too quiet. Carefully, she crept out of bed and pressed her back against the wall. She thought about waking the others, but spared herself from the embarrassment. _Paranoid Petra, they're coming to take you away._

Petra allowed herself a few minutes before she moved away from the wall. She moved her bed closer to the center of the room. She could see an entrance grate to the air shaft. Putting her trunk on top of the mattress, Petra climbed up and pulled the hinged grate open. The opening was still about a foot above her head, so she grabbed the sides of the shaft and pulled herself up into the hole. She looked down one tunnel, but it was too dark to see anything. The air vent was just wide enough for her to maneuver through, and she was able to turn herself around to look down the other end. Then she saw it. The little, red, blinking light. She crawled down the shaft, about 10 feet, before she could find what the light signaled. It was a digital timer, flashing bright red numbers, counting down from five minutes. In the red glow, she could see the timer was strapped to what appeared to be a pipe bomb.

Petra scrambled backwards towards the opening, then stopped. She went back, grabbed the bomb, and climbed back down into the room. She ran over to Harry's bed, shaking his shoulder, the bomb in her left hand.

Harry turned over towards her, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "What time is it?" He asked, his voice groggy with sleep. His eyes focused. "Petra, what on earth?" He saw the item in her hand, and leaped from his bed. "Bloody hell!" he yelled, backing away from her. "Where did you get that?"

The others were starting to wake up. They sat up, perplexed at Petra and Harry, looking like they were having a Mexican standoff.

"It was in the air shaft," Petra explained. "I think we've been infiltrated by terrorists. And we have exactly-" she looked at the timer- "Three minutes, forty seconds to get rid of it." At that, the other three were on their feet, scrambling for the door.

Edward tried the door handle. "Shit, it's locked!"

"Throw it back down the air shaft," the other rugby boy- Stephen- said to Petra. "Maybe we can toss it far enough that it won't hit us."

"No," Harry said, "We can't endanger anyone else who might be in other rooms. We're going to have to disarm it."

Everyone looked at Edward, who stared, panicked, back at them. "Can you do it?" Petra asked.

Edward took the bomb carefully from her and set it on the floor. Two minutes, fifty-five seconds.

Harry and Stephen tried heaving their bodies against the door. Stephen was yelling for help. The other girl- Lisa- was grabbing all of the blankets from their beds. "Here," she said, handing them out to Petra and Edward. "They're made from flame-retardant material."

"Edward, all you've done is stare at the thing like a fucking fish," Petra said. "Can you disarm it or not?"

"There's a kill-switch, but it may also be a trip wire to set off the damn thing."

"If you could put a percentage on it?"

"Fifty-fifty."

"Shit. We have to get out of here."

Harry stopped trying to break the door down. He was out of breath. "How?"

Petra pointed to the air vent. "We can climb through-"

"Wait, bombs don't have digital timers," Edward interrupted, "That only happens in the movies. This may not even be a real bomb." He looked around at the others. "Do you think this is part of our training?"

"Do you want to stay and find out?" Harry asked. "C'mon, we all need to get up into the air shaft."

Lisa was the first to heave herself into the opening, followed by Edward and Stephen, each of them wrapped in their blankets. Petra and Harry stood on the bed, looking up into the dark hole. Harry out his hands on Petra's waist. She slapped his arm and pushed herself away.

"What are you doing? Don't touch me!"

"I'm trying to help you so we don't die in an explosion!"

"I don't need your help!" Petra jumped up, grabbed the edges of the opening, and lifted herself up with the grace of a gymnast. Harry jumped up behind her. The others seemed to be about twenty feet ahead of them, about to turn a corner. Petra tried to remember how much time they had left. She hadn't looked at the timer before she went into the vent.

"Where's your blanket?" Harry asked from behind her.

 _Shit._

Petra crawled on her hands and knees as quickly as she could.

Suddenly, a loud _boooom_ shook their surroundings. The others had made it around the corner. Petra started forward again when Harry pulled her towards him, shoving her body flat and lying on top of her, pulling the blanket around both of them. Before she could protest, she heard a gust of wind and felt a blast of heat- flames from the explosion escaping through the vent. Harry's face was pressed against Petra's cheek. She could feel his breath on her neck.

After the flames died down, Petra quickly crawled from under Harry and continued down the shaft. She didn't turn around to make sure he was ok. She caught up with the others, who had stopped when the bomb exploded.

"Are you guys ok?" Edward asked.

"Fine. Keep going," Petra said.

Eventually, they found another air vent opening into another room. When Lisa kicked the grate out, they could see a large, black cushion about twenty feet down. "You've got to be kidding me," she said to herself, then let herself fall down into cushion. One by one, they landed softly. Gawain was standing near them, waiting.

"Congratulations on completing your first test."

Everyone was speechless and out of breath.

"Lisa, great job on noticing the material the blankets were made out of," Gawain continued, walking down the line to each of them. "Edward, you were also quite observant about the mechanics of the bomb, although the kill switch would have, in fact, rendered the bomb inert. Stephen, Harry, good teamwork." He reached Petra on the end. "Petra, excellent discovery of the bomb. We had an extra feature on it that would start beeping if no one found it, but you were much quicker than we expected. However, you seem to have a problem working with the other members of your team."

"With all due respect, sir, they are not my teammates. We are all competing for one position."

"Yes, but that position includes working alongside other Kingsman agents. They are to be your family. You can't do this alone." He stepped back to address the whole group. "I won't keep you up any longer. Wake up call in-" he looked at his watch, "Three hours. There's another barrack west of here you'll find with spare beds. Dismissed."


	3. H&P Chapter 3

Chapter 3- "dog"

 _Highly intelligent. Superior communication skills. Excels in all areas of study. Does not work well with others._ Petra was familiar with these marks in school, and it would seem they've followed her to her dream job.

The morning after the explosion, Petra went to observe the damage to their former sleeping quarters. Harry was also there when she arrived. He was bent over a pile of rubble, near the center of the blast. He had not changed out of his bedclothes yet, and a bit of muscle showed under a tear in his undershirt. He hadn't noticed Petra in the room, yet.

Except for a massive hole in the wall, and the metal door lying across the hall, the room had held up surprisingly well. Petra supposed it had been built for such things. She pushed a piece of crumbled concrete with her shoe. Harry stopped his inspection and stood up.

"Good morning," he said. Petra nodded in response. They stood in silence for a moment, until Harry couldn't stand the awkwardness. "I'm trying to see if I can figure what kind of explosive they used, maybe score some extra credit points." He picked up a chunk of rock, then tossed it back into the pile.

"Probably C-4, mixed with some dynamite." Petra walked further into the room, her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"And you're full of shit."

Harry looked startled. "Pardon?"

"You're here, same as me, to figure out if we haven't gotten ourselves mixed in with a bunch of psychopaths. People who use pipe bombs for training purposes."

Harry let out a short laugh. "Does that mean you're leaving?"

Petra was indignant. "I'm not a quitter."

Harry walked closer to Petra. "I didn't figure you to be one. I figure you, same as me, found last night to be rather exciting." His lips formed a crooked, wicked smile.

Petra looked down quickly to hide her own smile. When she picked up her head, it was gone. "I suppose I should thank you for preventing my trip to the burn ward."

Harry shrugged. "Don't mention it."

Petra stood close to him, enough to kiss him. "But if you ever do that to me again, I'll cut off your balls and feed them to your dog." She left Harry in the room, silently wondering why she had the urge to be threatening. _Oh, well. I tried to be a team player. It's just not my style._

One the second day, they each chose their canine companions. Petra, who had never been an animal lover, or even understood people's strange attachments to them, picked a slim Greyhound. She looked the most aloof animal in the group, one that wouldn't care about human affection. Harry was sitting on the ground rubbing his dog's belly. It was a hideous little pup, some kind of terrier. It jumped up into Harry's lap, yipping and licking his face. He was speaking gibberish to it in an annoying, childish voice. It was disgusting.

"That's very charming, Harry," Petra said.

"I can't help it you picked the royal snob of the lot. Mr. Pickle just has so much love to give."

Petra cringed. "Mr. Pickle?"

Harry scratched it behind its ears. "Silly, I know, but it fits him. Why, what'd you name yours? Queen Stick-up-her-ass?"

Petra suppressed a nasty comeback. "Dog."

"That's her name? Dog? You can't name a dog that."

"Why not? That's what it is."

"It's just a bit...impersonal."

Petra hooked a leash onto her dog's collar. "It's not a person, it's a dog," she said, as though that were a sufficient answer. She jogged along the stone track, the dog dutifully keeping up beside her. They left Mr. Pickle and his obnoxious companion behind. His short terrier legs would never be able to keep an athletic pace, although she supposed Harry had not chosen him for a competitive advantage. It was probably something to do with loyalty, which Petra could admire if it wasn't so pathetic.

As she rounded a corner, her heart rate now elevated to a nice pace, she could see Harry, still sitting with his dog in his lap. He was watching her run, smiling. Anger welled up from her stomach into her throat. She picked up her pace and started into a full run, her dog stretching her long legs and panting. _What was so damn amusing?_ Petra thought icily. She tried to ignore him, assuring herself he would be gone, soon. There was no way Harry Hart was Kingsman material.


	4. H&P Chapter 4

Chapter 4-

Training had claimed its first victim- Stephen had failed a simple skydiving mission. Turned out, he was cripplingly afraid of heights. For the next couple of weeks, they seemed to have been given a reprieve from heart-pounding exercises.

Petra, Harry, Lisa, and Edward spent most mornings and afternoons stuffed in a classroom, taking exams. Gawain sat at a desk in the front of the room, vigilantly watching them. Petra sat directly behind Harry, occasionally looking up at the back of his neck.

The tests ranged from personality profiles to date memorizations to code breaking. Edward finished before anyone else, quietly walking up and handing Gawain his exam.

After the other three were done, Petra started back to their sleeping quarters. She had found that, since no one really liked to be in there except at the end of the day, it was the one place she could unwind and be alone. She grabbed her book on ancient Chinese military history and lay on her bed with her back to the door. A few minutes later, she heard someone walk in.

"Aren't you going to dinner?" Harry asked.

Petra kept reading her book. "No."

"How do you think you did on your exams?"

"I suppose we'll wait and find out."

Harry walked around her bed and turned his head to read the cover of her book. He sighed. "Do you ever turn off?"

"Only when my batteries run low."

Harry chuckled. "Ah, so she does have a sense of humor. I knew I'd find a weak point."

Petra closed her book. "I don't have weaknesses. At least none that you'll ever find." As she left the room, Harry followed at her heels.

"I think I'll take that as a challenge," he said.

The next morning, after a quick, 3-mile run around the grounds, Petra was called into Arthur's office. She wasn't given any time to shower or change out of her sweaty clothes. She grabbed a towel and wiped her face, following Gawain to his superior. While inside, and thankful for the burst of cool air, Gawain stood beside Arthur, who sat looking over two files in front of him, side by side.

"Miss Durant, have a seat," he said, casually gesturing towards a chair.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Petra asked sincerely.

"I'm afraid this is not a pleasant visit. You were proving to be one of the best potential Kingsman agents we have ever had."

"Were?"

"It's such a shame you've thrown it all away."

Petra sat on the edge of her seat. "Sir, I don't think I realize what I've done. Am I being sent home?"

Arthur turned one of the open files around for her to see. "Perfect marks. The only one to have done so well in our history."

Petra looked at the paper, confused. _Sent home for having too good grades?_ Arthur turned the other file around. "Unfortunately for you, so did Mr. Hart. You both answered every single question exactly the same. Even down to the personality profile. So, either the two of you conferred before taking the exams, or one of you was looking at the other's work. And, since Gawain can attest that you were, in fact, sitting behind Mr. Hart, I doubt that he cheated off your work."

Petra sat with her mouth hanging open, unable to speak. She kept looking at the files. They did appear identical. "I can't believe this," she whispered. She looked up at Arthur, then Gawain. "I didn't cheat." Her eyes were hot and filing with angry tears. "I swear it, I've never cheated at anything my whole life."

"Are you accusing Mr. Hart of cheating, then?"

"No! Of course not."

Arthur turned to Gawain. "Bring Mr. Hart in," he asked softly.

Petra held her face in her hands, trying to stop the tears and the rage boiling in her. She and Arthur remained silent until Gawain returned with Harry.

Arthur wasted no time. "Miss Durant insists that neither of you is to blame for earning the exact same score on your exams."

Harry shrugged. "I'm sure she's telling the truth."

"No one has ever scored that well, let alone two candidates. It just doesn't happen. One of you is lying, and if neither of you confesses, I'll have no choice but to send you both home."

Petra lifted her head. "You can't do that!"

"She didn't cheat," Harry said calmly. "Gawain watched us like a hawk the whole time; he would have seen it if I'd turned around. I never left my seat."

Arthur turned to her. "Petra?"

"Petra is too proud to have cheated," Harry interrupted. Petra looked at him; he stayed turned towards Arthur. "Cheating is below her; I'm sure her personality profile will prove that. I don't know how we scored the same, but I will bet my life that Petra earned it."

Arthur glanced at Gawain, who shrugged. He sighed, weary of this back-and-forth. "Very well," he said. "You're both dismissed."

Petra followed Harry out of the room. As they walked down the hallway, Petra touched his arm, stopping him. He turned and looked at his arm, then up at her.

"Why did you stick up for me?" she asked.

"You've got a natural talent for this line of work," he said. "I admire that. So, when I beat you, I want it to be fair and square, and not by a technicality." He continued walking down the hallway.

Petra didn't know whether or not to kiss him or slap him. He was gone before she made up her mind.


	5. H&P Chapter 5

Chapter 5- the motorbikes

One morning (5:00 AM wake-up had long since become the standard), after their run around the grounds, Gawain led them all to a briefing room where Arthur sat waiting for them. He motioned for the four recruits to take seats across from him. A television screen hung on the wall behind him showing a grainy black-and-white of a man. Russian, Petra thought, maybe Czech, mid-40s. She took the seat directly in front of Arthur. Harry sat to her left, Edward and Lisa on her right. Arthur gave each of them a manilla folder with the same man's profile clipped to the inside.

"Your first assignment," Arthur started, getting right to it. "Ilya Abramovich. We believe he is part of a large drug operation based in Sweden. Currently, he's thought to be hiding out in Tanzania. Your assignment is to track him down and bring him back to us for questioning. If you're caught, Kingsman will deny any involvement."

Petra interrupted. "I'm sorry, but why aren't you asking real Kingsman for this?"

"As Kingsman agents, this will be routine for you. We thought there was no way to simulate the risks of real assignments without throwing you to the wolves, as it were. Gawain will be with you, of course. And you have proper weapons and stealth training. A simple extraction should not be difficult, especially for those of you who have shown exceptional talent for the job." At his last words he glanced at Harry and Petra.

"This man is highly dangerous," Gawain reminded them. "Although we are, in essence, still testing you, this mission will determine which of you are truly cut out to be Kingsman agents."

Their plane brought them to the city of Dar es Salaam, where they took the railway into Morogoro. The four of them were dressed suitably as student tourists. On the train, Harry wouldn't stop taking pictures.

"Bit obvious, aren't you?" Petra commented from behind her book of Swahili-to-English.

"It's a beautiful country," Harry said. "Not all our memories have to be gruesome ones."

"Well, save some film for the assignment," she replied.

"Who put you in charge?"

Petra pursed her lips and went back to reading her book. Gawain, acting as their professor/chaperone, came around the corner. He handed them each a slip of paper with an address.

"Memorize this address," he said, "then burn the evidence. This location will be our official headquarters for the assignment. I could only get two rooms for you-" Petra's heart skipped. She prepared herself to argue with Gawain. "-So Harry and Edward, you two take one room; the girls will take the other."

Of course she would room with Lisa. How silly of her to think any different. Why on earth would she think she was going to have to share a hotel room with Harry Hart? She smiled to herself thinking of how he would blush, embarrassed. She would take the bed, of course, delegating him to the floor, doubtful as to there being another piece of furniture available.

Gawain had arranged for four small-engine motorbikes for them when they arrived. Petra checked her watch. 4:15AM back in England. The sun was just rising in Morogoro at 6:15AM. She had hardly slept on the plane, but the adrenaline from knowing she was on a real mission kept her alert. At a remote spot, Gawain gave them their helmets- bulky, black, and with a tinted shield in the front that their leader informed them acted as an internal computer screen. Petra switched hers on and put it on her head, watching the diagnostics come to life in front of her eyes. Through a network of tiny, wirelessly connected speakers, she heard Harry in her ear.

"This is top shit, Gawain," he marvelled. Petra rolled her eyes, although she, too, was impressed. She removed the futuristic technology from her head and listened to the rest of Gawain's briefing. He was going to leave them for the hotel, running surveillance from his room. He would be listening in and giving advice via the helmets.

"If any of you are compromised," he said, "do not return to the hotel. Wait for my instructions and we will see about getting you back safe. Remember your backgrounds, and only use your weapons if necessary. We don't want to start a war."

Edward was the quickest to figure out their helmets. Petra found it distracting at first, and tried to look past the flashing lights in front of her eyes lest she fall off her bike. Edward took the lead, speeding down dirt paths while the rest followed. He had studied a few road maps and had learned the area well. "Next right, guys," he said. They were dodging street vendors and travelling down alleyways. They stopped for a bite to eat. While the other three chatted idly about the landscape, Petra kept a hawk's eye out for their man. Soon, Gawain informed them he had reached the hotel and was booting up his surveillance.

"I hope you've all enjoyed your breakfasts," he said after they replaced their helmets. "I've spotted your target moving west, about four kilometers from your position."

They hopped back on their bikes and resumed riding in the direction Gawain had instructed. "Follow the route I'm putting up on your screens now."

"Actually, there's a quicker route if we go around, Gawain," Edward said. "Look at the bus schedules. I marked a blue line that might help us."

Silence for a moment, then, "Good work, Edward. Alright, take the alternate route. It's on your screens now."

Petra followed the moving green line in front of her. It felt more like a videogame than a secret mission. Anytime now, she half expected a large, anthropomorphic, yellow half circle to come barreling around the bend.

Suddenly, her screen blinked an ominous red alert signal. It zoomed in to a face in the crowd they were quickly approaching. "Abramovich, 12 o'clock," Petra said to the others.

"We see him," Lisa noted, and skirted her bike down an alley to her right. "I'm going to try and flank him, you guys go ahead."

Their target appeared to be doing some casual shopping. He was holding a pair of colorful linens in his hands, inspecting them closely. The vendor was clearly trying to haggle with him.

Harry stopped his bike and took off his helmet. "What are you doing?" Petra asked, then remembered he wouldn't be able to hear her now. She slowed down and turned her head to look over her shoulder. Harry lifted his camera that was hanging around his neck and snapped some photos of the crowd. Edward had already gone ahead. Petra stopped, leaning on her right foot. She took off her helmet and glared at Harry.

"Smile," he said, aiming the camera at her. She turned her head away, a warm wind blowing her hair across her face. She could see Abramovich moving along the street. No doubt Harry was trying to get a clear picture under the guise of snapping tourist shots of Petra. Harry hopped off his bike and walked it until he was next to Petra. Handing her the camera, he leaned in close. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her.

"What's the plan?" he asked softly.

"We tail him for a while, see if we can find out where he's staying. Why are you standing so close to me?"

Harry put his hand on hers. When she tried to jerk it away, he held it tight. "He's looking at us," Harry said.

In her periphery, Petra could tell they were being watched. "Act like you somewhat like me," Harry said, lightly pinching her chin. "At least you can smile."

Petra went along, smiling warmly at him. She put the camera to her eye. "Shall I take one of you, then?"

Harry grinned, stepping back and striking a handsome pose. She clicked a few photos until it seemed Abromovich lost interest in them. He boarded a nearby bus and took a seat in the very back, looking out of the rear window.

"Did you get the tag number?" Petra asked.

"I'm letting Gawain know now," he said, putting his helmet on. Petra did the same, informing Edward as well.

"We can't follow him," Harry said. "He's sure to recognize us."

Petra sighed. "I suppose we could ride around and do some sightseeing."

Within the hour, Gawain had an address to a building where the bus had dropped off Abramovich. Lisa had already gained access using a pickpocketed key card. The plan was for Lisa to discreetly lure him out of the building while Edward, Harry and Petra all waited outside. Edward stayed to the east wing of the building, while Harry and Petra flanked the west wing. Their bikes were hidden nearby.

Petra saw Abramovich exit the building. He was walking towards Edward, who was leaning casually against a wall, smoking. He moved very deliberately, as though he, too, were on a mission. Suddenly, Abramovich lifted his arm, and Petra saw a gun in his hand. Two shots rang out, and someone screamed.

Petra reached for her own gun, securely fastened in a holster under her shirt. Harry grabbed her arm. "We have to go," he said hurriedly.

"He's going to get away," Petra argued.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get your chance. He may just kill you before you do." Harry pushed her away from Abramovich and Edward, whom she could no longer see. They ran to their bikes and sped away.

"Ed, you alright?" Harry spoke into the helmet.

"I've been hit," Edward answered weakly.

"Where are you?" Harry asked, then to Petra, "We have to go back."

"Are you kidding me?" she answered.

Before Harry could argue, Gawain came over the speakers. "Edward, come back to headquarters. Harry, Petra, you've got company. I'm setting a route for you; maybe you can outrun them."

"Them?" Petra exclaimed, looking over her shoulder. Two men, each armed with a pistol, were running towards them. A crowd was forming in the streets, making it hard for Harry and Petra to maneuver on their motorbikes. A bullet whizzed past her shoulder. The crowd scattered, screaming. Harry and Petra accelerated around a curve. Suddenly, a large, beige humvee pulled out in front of them, blocking the street. Petra reflexively steered right down an alley, almost wiping out. She checked back for Harry just in time to see the back of his motorbike clip the front of the truck. The bike slid sideways, throwing Harry to the ground. The armed men were catching up quick.

Petra cursed to herself (although Gawain probably heard her), and turned her bike around. She sped over to Harry, leaning down to grab his arm. She flipped the visor to her helmet open so he could hear her. "Hop on," she commanded. "Don't argue."

Harry did as she said, just as two more shots missed them and hit the truck. Petra hit the accelerator as hard as she could, spinning her tires for a moment, then speeding away down the alley.

It took her a moment to realize Harry's hands were wrapped around her and pressed against her stomach. She slowed down to take another turn, then sped up, barely missing a pedestrian. Harry held her tighter.

"Careful!" he yelled.

"Can you see them?" Petra asked, ignoring his request.

Harry turned as best he could. "Shit. They're on motorbikes. Much nicer ones, and they're gaining on us."

Petra pulled out her gun and handed it to Harry. "I'll try not to throw you off," she said. "I assume you can hit a moving target."

Harry reluctantly took her gun. "Gawain told us not to use them unless necessary."

"I'm sure the situation at hand calls for it," Petra said, exasperated. "Aim for their tires if you're so concerned." She could hear the loud rumble of motorcycle engines behind her.

Harry fired a shot behind him. "One down," he said. Petra was surprised she didn't hear Gawain in her ear. Had he been compromised, too? She made a left turn, coming face-to-face with a group of four men, all holding automatic rifles aimed at Harry and herself.


	6. H&P Chapter 6

Chapter 6- the capture

"Gawain, what do we do?" Petra asked into the helmet. There was no answer.

"Can we outrun them?" Harry asked.

"Not without risking one of us getting shot," she answered.

One of the gunmen shouted at them. "How's your Russian?" Harry asked.

"He wants us to take off our helmets, and drop our weapons," Petra said. "We should do as he says." She removed her helmet, as did Harry, and they stepped off the bike. They placed their guns on the ground slowly. The gunmen ran over and grabbed them. Two men took Petra by her arms; the other two had Harry likewise. They threw them into the back of a large, black SUV. An expensive vehicle, Petra thought. Must be KGB, or something just as big. Petra sat directly across from Harry. They stared at each other. Harry looked panicked. Petra was calm, trying to formulate an escape plan on her mind. One of the gunmen sat next to Harry, his rifle resting in his lap, his hands ready to use it if either of them made a sudden movement. Before the vehicle left, another unarmed man climbed into the backseat. He motioned for each of them to turn around and tied their hands behind their backs. He placed black hoods over their heads. The vehicle started and they were silently on their way.

"You ok?" Harry asked, his voice muffled under the hood. The man next to him yelled something in Russian.

"Fine," Petra answered at risk of being hit. The man yelled again, this time a threat. They remained silent the rest of the ride. Petra tried to calculate how far they had ridden by how many stops they were making and the number of turns. After 30 minutes of riding, she supposed they were well outside of the Morogoro region. When they finally stopped, Harry and Petra were marched into a building. There was no air conditioning, but it felt cooler to Petra. Concrete walls. Maybe a bunker. She was suddenly shoved forward. She heard a heavy door slam behind her. Someone removed her hood. A man with a thick, square jaw, bristled face, and a soldier's body scowled at her. Harry was gone.

"I will ask question," the man said in heavily-accented English. "You will give answer. No answer, I shoot you." He pointed his gun at her kneecap.

"What did you do with Harry?" Petra asked in Russian.

The man swung the butt of his rifle across her face so hard, she heard a sharp crack. Her cheekbone was undoubtedly shattered and her eyelid began to close with the swelling.

"Your Russian is impressive," said the man, switching to his native tongue, "for a tourist. Your comrade is nearby." He grabbed a handheld walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke into it, keeping his other hand on his rifle aimed at Petra. There was static, then she heard Harry's voice. "Petra? Are you ok? Don't- _oof_!" There was a thud, then another Russian voice yelling. Petra's captor smiled as his radio went silent. "We make a deal. You answer my question, I let you both go. He answer question first, though- I kill you."

Petra had a strong feeling Harry was being given the same proposition. However, it would mean that in trying to save both of them, Harry could be signing her death sentence, if what her captor said was true. But, if Harry's captor gave the same terms, and Petra answered first, she could be responsible for his murder. It was near impossible to know if either man were telling the truth.

"We know you are traveling with a man known by the name Gawain," said the man. "Who is he? And what is Kingsman?"

Petra's face throbbed. "I don't know," she said calmly.

The man picked up his right foot and kicked her squarely in the face with a heavy military boot, effectively knocking her backwards in her chair. The hard concrete floor knocked the wind from her lungs and she banged her head, seeing a burst of twinkling lights. Her hands, tied behind her back, were crushed under the back of the chair. Blood poured from her nose and mouth, and she had to turn her head to keep from choking on it.

The man stood over her, his gun now pointed at her face. "I will give you one more chance. What is Kingsman, and are they worth your friend's death?"

Petra spat at the man and yelled, in Russian, what roughly translated to a suggestion that his mother have carnal relations with a certain farm animal.

The man laughed, then spoke into his walkie-talkie again. "Shoot him."

Petra screamed, not in pain, but in fury. She struggled in her restraints. The man just stood, laughing at her. He waited for the sound of a muffled gunshot, but there was only static. He frowned. "Hello?" he said into the radio. There was no answer.

Petra concentrated on an escape, looking around the room for inspiration. Apart from the metal door, the only other way out was a tiny, square window about 6 ft from the floor. It was reinforced with thick, iron bars. The only other furniture in the room was the chair in which she was sitting. She was going to have to take down her guard somehow, then pick his pockets for a knife to free herself. It would take time, but Petra was fairly patient.

The man was still trying to get in touch with his cohort. He started towards the door, when they heard a gunshot, followed by an instantaneous boom. The door was blown off its frame, and in the haze and debris stood Harry Hart.

Petra felt her heart leap. Harry took advantage of her captor's surprise and sprang at him, knocking the rifle from his hands. The man recovered swiftly and began engaging Harry in highly skilled combat. Petra watched helplessly as Harry glided around him, throwing punches and blocking them. Finally, he charged at the man and bashed their heads together. Their incarcerator fell to the ground like a bowling ball.

Harry stood over him with his fists clenched, waiting for him to get back up. When he was satisfied, he finally turned his attention to Petra. He ran over to her and helped her back upright. "You alright?" he asked as he undid her restraints.

"I'm fine, but there will probably be more coming. There's no way they didn't hear the explosion."

Harry helped her to her feet. He winced as he looked at her mashed, pulped face. He had a cut on his forehead, and another under his jawline, as though a blade had been held there for some time.

"Right," he said, "We'd better get out of here."

As if on cue, three more guards, all armed, ran into the room. Harry and Petra exchanged glances, then sprang into action. As Harry charged the trio, Petra slid into the floor and scooped up the now unconscious man's rifle. In the same fluid motion she aimed it precisely at the middle guard's head. But when she pulled the trigger, nothing happened. It was jammed.

Harry swung onto one of the guard's backs and wrapped his arm tightly around his neck. They were all in too close range to fire their weapons for fear of shooting each other. Petra leapt to her feet and ran at them with the rifle like a bayonet. She stabbed one of them in the stomach with the rifle barrel and he doubled over, then she swung the heavy end up at his chin. His head flew backwards and he fell on top of Petra's man. Harry's man was turning blue from lack of oxygen, he fell to his knees and then to the floor, face first. Harry scrambled back up, and they both looked at their final target. He aimed his gun at Petra and pulled the trigger, but Harry was already running at him, and the guard changed his focus. His rifle turned slightly to the right, its expelled bullet narrowly missing Petra's left shoulder. She then lifted her rifle like a baseball bat and swung as hard as she could at the last man's head. They heard a loud crack, and their final captor collapsed.

The room was quiet except for Harry and Petra's heavy breathing. Petra looked over at Harry, who was still ready for one of the guards to put in one last effort. His normally neatly combed hair had fallen in strands in front of his face, and he held his mouth open and crooked to one side. His shoulders were heaving with labored breath. Finally, he lifted his head to meet her glance, and what she saw startled her. He had a wild look in his eyes, but one that also glittered with excitement. He looked as though he had relished the brawl, in fact had gotten a certain high from it all.

Petra's heart was pounding out of her chest. She felt a shiver all the way from her neck down to her toes. Her impulses were firing neurons in her brain in a manic rush, and she found herself, without giving it a single thought, running at Harry and kissing him hard on the mouth. Harry stumbled backwards until his back slammed against the far wall. He had his arms around Petra and kissed her back, matching her ferocity. Her body felt aflame with adrenaline.

Suddenly, like a rubber band stretched too far, Petra snapped back to their reality. She broke the kiss with a loud smack and stared at Harry with her lips parted in confusion.

"We need to go," she said hurriedly. She spun around and picked up a rifle from one of the other unconscious guards, slinging it by its strap across her back. She grabbed Harry's hand and began running out of the bunker. When they reached the dry, dusty area outside, she finally let go. There was a large humvee parked outside the building. Petra started towards it, but Harry stopped her.

"Too conspicuous," he said, then pointed to a motorcycle. "Come on," and before she could argue, "I'm driving."

After about ten minutes of driving, and concluding they were not being pursued, Harry pulled the motorcycle over to one side of a lonely dirt road. He swung his leg over the seat and turned to face Petra.

"Where to, Miss?" He grinned at her. The maniac killing machine was gone in his eyes.

"I suppose we should try to find Gawain." Petra looked up at the sky. "Although, it'll be dark soon. Maybe we should find somewhere safe to stay the night, then continue our way back tomorrow."

Harry considered this. He nodded. "Hopefully somewhere that won't try to call the authorities on us, or worse."

They rode into the next town and found a small hotel. The lobby was dimly lit, but not so much that the man at the front desk didn't notice Harry and Petra looking like a lion had just chewed them up and then spat them both from its mouth. Harry explained, in sentence fragments, that he and his girlfriend had been mugged. The gentleman merely shrugged in a what-can-you-do? kind of way. They were given a room key and limped tiredly to its door.

The day's strenuous events had finally caught up to Petra, and she thought her legs might collapse from under her. She fell into the thin, springy mattress and lay her head on the pillow.

"I'll take the chair, then," Harry said.

They listened to the other sounds of the hotel, other patrons slamming doors and having muffled conversations through the walls.

"I hope everyone else made it back ok," Harry wondered out loud.

"Probably not."

Harry clenched his jaw. He sat down in the upholstered chair next to Petra. The cushion was badly torn and stained, much like the bed. "Are we going to talk about what happened back there?"

Petra feigned any knowledge, but felt her stomach flutter with yearning. "You saved my life. I expect you want some sort of gratitude?"

Harry was unshakable. "You kissed me. Or, rather, you ravaged me."

"I seem to remember you returned the gesture."

Harry smiled coyly. Petra was not as amused. Actually, she was angry at herself for acting so foolish.

"Have I discovered your weak spot, then?" Harry asked.

Petra rolled over and pulled the thin, scratchy wool blanket over her shoulder. "It's a mistake I'll never be making again."


End file.
